


Empire of Sand

by Korinne



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Allura and Lance are Siblings, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), Langst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Rating May Change, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-08 06:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13452864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korinne/pseuds/Korinne
Summary: When Lance is barely nine years old, his homeland, the magnificent island and city-state of Altea, is completely destroyed and burned by the Galra. Forced to flee with his twin sister Allura and few other survivors, he spends the next decade in relative peace... at least until Allura secretly volunteers in the ongoing war and misteriously disappears. The only way to possibly find her, assuming she's still alive, is becoming part of the inner court of the Galra Empire, where she may have been taken as a war prisoner. Lance desperately wants to find his twin sister, but this decision takes him dangerously close to the mysterious Keith - a royal bastard who seems to be hiding a few secrets of his own - . Nothing is what it seems in this court of nightmares, where Lance's worst enemy may turn out to be the only person he should actually trust.





	1. Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so if you notice any mistakes please tell me and I will correct them! I hope you'll enjoy this story; if you do, don't forget to leave a comment and let me know! ❤

To be completely honest, there are close to no perks of living in the middle of the gods-damned desert.

During the day it gets unbearably hot, and at nighttime the temperature drops so suddenly and dramatically that it’s almost like moving to another hemisphere altogether.

The landscape is kind of boring, too: you can spend the day gazing at dunes only so many times before getting the impeding urge to commit suicide, possibly by letting yourself drown in the aforementioned never-ending sand. I grew up on an island and basically learned to swim before I learned to walk, so I guess my frustration is kind of understandable, but there's nothing I can do anyway. 

While this may not exactly be the most exiting and stimulating place in the world, it’s safe... or at least as safe as a lonely orphanage in the southernmost region of the Free Lands can be; I guess that in times of war it’s either this or the sewers of an abandoned city up north. And, I mean... ew: thanks but no, thanks. I have standards.

I actually consider myself pretty lucky given the conditions some other, more accessible and vulnerable regions of the country, have been left in by the Galra army. 

The orphanage I have lived in for the past ten years is not that terrible of a place, either: I might not get along with some of the other kids, but that's because they apparently think I'm too "loud" and "obnoxious". Rude, I know. But I'm sure deep down everybody knows I'm awesome and simply irresistible.

It's not like I care too much, anyway. From the age of nine, when my home country was burned to the ground by the Galra and I had to flee on a wooden lifeboat with my sister and few other survivors, I learned an important lesson about life: _she's a bitch_ , so the less people you care about, the less hurt you’re going to be when they inevitably disappear or are forcibly taken from you. 

Which is why, in the past decade, I have allowed myself to get close to two people only: Allura, my twin sister, and Hunk, who was the only one who would talk to us when we arrived at the orphanage ten years ago.

In the Free Lands, Alteans don’t have a good reputation; while the first is place where laws and rules do not exist, for they were abolished centuries ago, our island – before the attack, of course - had represented for the same amount of time a beacon of peace, order and civilization. 

It took the Galra one night to make Altea crumble, leaving only ashes and dust in the place of what had once been the most beautiful city-state in thewhole known world. The attack had been sudden, unexpected: Altea had been blissfully unaware of the existance of the Galra Empire until that very night. Even on our oldest maps, the immense but unexplored territory in which the empire was supposedly located was simply marked with a ominius phrase: _"hic sunt leones"_. The lions are here.

My sister and I survived only because at the time of the fire we were both young children, and thus among the first to be thrown on a lifeboat and pushed into the unforgiving sea when the disaster occurred. 

We reached the shores of the Free Lands after three days of rowing, and the orphanage in a fortnight of walking through the desert. It's a miracle that we surivived the journey. Many didn't.   
One of the children that traveled with us died of dehydration on the boat; another passed away in the middle of the desert, exhausted by the heat and fatigue. The last of our unlucky companions met his end a few months after that, struck by an unknown but deadly illness. The man that had accompanied us to the orphanage, a family friend named Coran who had been the proud owner of an impressive orange mustache, left immediately after our arrival in order to look for other survivors, but he never came back.

Allura and I were left alone: no family that could help us, no friends we could rely on, no other Alteans that could understand our experiences and traumas. The other children of the orphanage had known each other for years, and due to Allura's strong personality and my apparently insufferable one, they isolated us quickly. 

Hunk, a shy but gentle kid around our age, was the only one who talked to us and eventually befriended us: even at that time he was already bigger and taller than all the other kids, and thus nobody dared to mess with him. He was a sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but his strong physique and the fact that he was the son of the late owner of the building that housed the orphanage, meant that the other kids mostly ignored or effectively avoided him.

Nonetheless, we quickly became inseparable; we basically grew up together, and in spite of the war raging around us we spent the last ten years in peace, doing chores and chatting the days away. 

Everything changed two months ago, when a militia group from the Free Lands reached our orphanage while looking for volunteers: the Galra were apparently planning an invasion and they weren’t going to give up anytime soon, so the army needed new soldiers to replace the ones who had died in the war, in order to hopefully fend off the enemy.

I knew it was a lost cause. 

The Galra had completely destroyed and annihilated Altea, a self-sufficient, well-defended and mostly isolated island, in a few hours. There was no way a handful of untrained volunteers could stop them. They were too powerful, too many.

Allura and I argued for hours, in an apparently endless screaming contest. She believed that there was still hope, and that if enough people joined the fight against the Galra, the Free Lands could withstand the attack and even fight back. Allura believed it was our duty, as Altean survivors, to help in the fight against the empire that had brutally destroyed our home and killed our loved ones. I knew that what she was saying was right, but I was also aware that the small rebel groups existing at the time had no chance of winning against the Galra; they needed more time, more soldiers, more resources. Otherwise, any plan of action was going to become a suicide mission. I wanted to help, of course, but I wanted to survive and most of all I wanted to make sure my sister did, too.

The next morining, she was gone. Allura left with nothing but the clothes on her back, a bag of supplies and some stolen food. She wrote a short letter, in which she apologized for leaving without me, and claimed she hoped I would understand the reason why. I did, of course, but I felt angry and betrayed nonetheless. My own sister had just walked away from me with a group of strangers, towards certain death. She had abandoned me, when she knew very well that she was the only person I trusted and the one I cared about the most. Allura knew that losing her to the same empire that had taken the rest of my family and my home, would finally break me to the point of no return.

Almost two months later, the Galra managed to invade the Free Lands. They pillaged and plundered, murdered and raped, tortured and taken most of the surviving soldiers as prisoners.

Three days ago, one of the members of the militia that had recruited Allura came back to the orphanage, and told me she had been captured by the Galra.

Tonight, after packing my belongings and leaving a letter for Hunk as Allura had for me, I silently left the orphanage, heading south. I know my sister isn't dead. She can't be. 

And I'm going to find her and saver her, no matter what.


	2. Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is very short, and I promise the next one will be longer! I'll probably be able to update this Friday, if my homework doesn't get in the way... anyway, enjoy!

<< Going somewhere? >>

I turn around slowly, feigning innocence and indifference. It’s too dark to see a thing but I would recognize this voice anywhere: Hunk has caught me. 

<< Stargazing. >> I answer casually, nodding towards the night sky. It’s a safe lie: the three of us used to sneak out, lie on the sand and observe the constellations when we were younger. Every time I saw a shooting star, I prayed and hoped we could stay like that, together and safe, forever.  
It’s something we haven’t done ever since Allura left, but saying this is still better than improvising a sudden urge to go for a run through the desert in the middle of the night.

<< Don’t lie to me, Lance. >>

For the first time since I have known him, Hunk sounds angry. Well, maybe angry isn’t the right word to describe the emotion I can feel in his voice right now: it’s a mix of disappointment, sadness and disbelief. I feel almost guilty, but then I shake my head and remember why I’m out here in the first place. When I turn around to face him I can see Hunk standing in the doorstep, with his arms crossed.

<< Alright, I can explain… >> I try, weakly. I have always been a terrible liar: everybody is somehow always able to know when I’m not telling the truth, from either the tone of my voice or the expressions I make. Hunk has known me and been my best friend for over a decade, so there’s no point in trying to deny the obvious, at least not when I’ve got a backpack in my hands and two layers of clothing on.

<< I’m coming with you. >> he states, before I can finish my poor attempt at an excuse. I gape and stutter for a moment, shocked, before shaking my head angrily.

<< No you’re not. >>

<< Yes, I am! >> he continues, while starting to walk towards me. Only then do I notice that he’s got a bag over his shoulder. He probably heard me when I was packing my things, while he pretended to be asleep. 

<< Absolutely not! I don’t want you to risk your life! >> I whisper-shout; there are about two dozen other orphans in the building, plus three caretakers. If we wake them up, my plan is going to end before even starting.

<< Well, neither do I want you to risk yours. So either we go together, or we both stay here where it’s safe and nice there’s no risk of getting our heads cut off. >> he whisper-shouts back, gesturing wildly. If the scene weren’t so dramatic, I would have laughed at our behavior.

I sigh nervously and run a hand through my short, brown hair. I always considered it quite plain compared to Allura’s white curls, inherited from out father: my sister has always been a beautiful girl, definitely the prettiest in the orphanage and even more good-looking than most of the Altean women I remember from my childhood. I can’t bring myself to think about what could have happened to her since having been captured. All I know is that, if anybody has dared to lay a hand on my twin, I’m going to chop that same hand off and then make them swallow it.

<< They have Allura, Hunk. They’ve had her for weeks, and she’s been gone for months. While I was sitting here, comfortably, my twin sister was on a battlefield. And now look at what happened! >>

The guilt has been consuming me since the night she left. I know I could have found her, somehow, if I had immediately tried to. I know I should have left the orphanage that same morning and searched every inch of this damn desert. Instead, I preferred to focus on my anger. I spent days moping, whining and brooding, while Allura was risking her life miles and miles away, alone. It was all my fault. If I had gone with her, this wouldn’t have happened. 

Without realizing it, I start sobbing. Hunk approaches me quickly, then, forgetting for a moment that I was about to abandon him just like my sister had abandoned me. He wraps me in a tight hug, and almost lifts me off the ground. I can feel his chest moving, and I notice that he is crying, too. We stay like this for a moment, in a sad and almost desperate embrace, and then Hunk takes a step back and looks at me straight in the eyes; his are red and swollen, but behind the tears I can see a look of strong motivation. 

<< I’m not going to lose you too, Lance. I can’t let you go on your own; Allura had the militia, but you’re going to die if you get lost in the desert. >> he says, surely.  
<< We’re going to find her, but we’ll do this together or not at all, end of the story. >>

Hunk is tall and strong, but he faints at the sight of blood and he’s so nice he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I know I can rely on him but I remember the horrors I’ve witnessed when the Galra attacked Altea. Still, I know he’s right: I wouldn’t survive a single night on my own. And leaving him at the orphanage is just as dangerous: the empire has invaded the Free Lands, and even if the building is extremely secluded, it doesn’t mean that the Galra won’t find it. Hiding in plain sight, inside of the Empire itself, might be the best strategy of survival: what we need is a good plan. We have nothing to lose anyway.

I nod, and Hunk smiles happily, like we haven’t just signed our own death certificates. This might be among the worst ideas I’ve ever had: I know I won’t be able to concentrate on finding my sister if Hunk is with me, because I will also have to focus on keeping him safe. But I’m selfishly glad he’s coming too, because at least I won’t have to be alone in this desperate, suicidal mission.

<< Alright, then… let’s go save your sister. >>


	3. To the rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear readers! I know, I promised the update would come sooner, but sadly I've been extremely busy in the past few weeks :(  
> Nonetheless, I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter! Don't forget to comment and let me know!

<< I… think we’re lost. >> Hunk stops dead in his tracks, and sighs depressively.

I run a hand through my hair, which by now is sweaty and messy, and for the hundredth time since we left the orphanage I mentally curse the Galra, the desert, the sun, the heat, my stupid plan, my impulsive sister and my terrible luck… which, I realize, are quite a lot of things to bitch about at the same time; nonetheless, given my situation I think I should be allowed to be as pissed as I want about all of them.

Hunk and I have been walking for what feels like weeks, but is actually just a few days: according to his calculations we should have arrived at a Galra outpost a few hours ago, but all I can see around us are miles and miles of yellow sand, and no military bases or green oases in sight. As if that weren’t bad enough, our supplies are starting to run out, and being left with no water while basically stranded in the middle of the desert doesn’t exactly seem like the most desirable outcome for us. It’s almost nighttime, and I know for experience that in a few hours the temperature is going to drop drastically; we should take shelter soon, and continue the exploration tomorrow morning. We could keep walking through the night and use the stars to find our way, but I’m exhausted, and I’m pretty sure Hunk feels the same.

For hours on end we’ve followed an old and rusty railway that apparently, a few hundred years ago, had connected what are now the Free Lands with the northern border of the Galra Empire. Provident as ever, Hunk has brought along an old map that’s still mostly legible, albeit incomplete: the long-gone cities and roads of the Free Lands are marked, but the entire southern part of the continent is missing. If we manage to reach the Galra Empire, we won't have anything to guide us there. 

<< Well, what now? >> I ask, while letting myself drop on the sand.

My best friend mumbles something about “stupid old maps” and ignores my question. He spreads the aforementioned chart in front of him, spends a couple of minutes staring at it intensively, and then – for what I think is the first time in the ten years I’ve known him – lets out a frustrated curse.

<< I don’t understand, we should have arrived three hours ago! >> he exclaims, throwing his hands in the hair. << This desert has to end somewhere! >>

<< Eh, I wouldn’t be so sure. >> I mutter.

The outpost we’re looking for is supposedly located at the end of this arid wasteland; the carriages leaving for Daibazaal, the capital of the empire, start their journeys there. After their decisive victory a couple months ago, the Galra have conquered the southernmost part of the Free Lands: they usually take the surviving members of the opposing army as slaves, so there’s a fifty percent chance that Allura has been taken to the capital with other war prisoners. The invaders have, apparently, also been raiding villages and abandoned cities, and sending the stolen treasures back to the empire.

The plan Hunk and I have come up with is quite simple, and frankly almost suicidal, but it’s our only option: we’re going to steal a carriage and head to Daibazaal. Once there, we’ll pretend to be Galra and start looking for Allura throughout the city: luckily, even after hundreds of years of isolation, the language spoken by these invaders is not radically different from the one used in the Free Lands and Altea, so blending it shouldn’t be impossible.

Of course, we need a carriage in order to start the plan, and we need to find the Galra outpost to get one. In spite of Hunk’s predictions, we’re still in the middle of nothing, and I’m probably dehydrated enough to start hallucinating soon. I dare not imagine my appearence right now.

What a horrible way to die… if I don’t make it, my ghost is going to haunt Allura’s ghost for the rest of eternity.

<< Lance… is that a camel? >> Hunk asks suddenly with a confused and concerned voice, ignoring my very serious threat.

<< There are no camels in this desert Hunk, you’re probably hallucin… >> I say, while starting to get up. But when I turn around to face the same direction as Hunk, the only thing I can do is gape silently.

Because there’s a real, living and moving camel in my line of sight. Actually, there’s an entire caravan, with camels and carriages and Galra.

My best friend and I run and hide behind a dune, quietly.

<< We found it. >> he exclaims, excitedly. I nod enthusiastically and climb the dune as delicately and carefully as I can, in order to get a better view. The caravan is moving slowly, southwards.

A few hundred meters away, I see some wooden shacks with empty carriages all around it. Some soldiers are walking close by, and judging by their body language they appear relaxed. I smirk and slide down, where Hunk is checking his map and compass.

<< It’ll be dark soon… I say we wait until most of the soldiers are asleep and then steal one of the carriages and a couple of camels. They’re so sure of themselves that I’m convinced the ones on patrol tonight are going to be sound asleep by midnight. >>

Hunk nods, and for the first time since we’ve left the orphanage, I allow myself to be hopeful.


End file.
